Western Crime Rave
by Fluffarooni
Summary: It's hard to dance when you're in the deserts of the Wild West. Some dance for gold, others dance with cattle and livestock, and some dance at the saloons or general stores. If you don't want to do any of those, the only other path for you is to follow is the road of the party. When it works out, your moves are bangin'. If it fails, you suffer in hell. (PARODY)


**This story is a parody of ****Jordanzz**'**s Western Crime Wave. Go check it out if you haven't!**

* * *

**Dwayne's Point of View**

"So this train does have a secret VIP party room..." I said with a devious smile on my face. Surrounding me were two drunk security guards and a dead civilian who had died trying to stop me from pursuing the life of the party. Using psychic, I opened the door that led to the short pathway blocking me from my bi-weekly rave party. I smiled as the cool desert night's air flowed throughout my fur, the strobe lights flickering behind the door. "It's times like these where I wonder what it'd be like not to party like this... To have a normal life. But those times are gone. I'm not the antisocial neckbeard I used to be. It'll take more than just memories and crack to crack me." I mumbled, dancing at the cart to summon the gods to dislodge it from the rest of the train.

"Well, well, well, well, well, well, well. Looks like the angry phone calls from the neighbors were right," A voice said from behind me. I turned to see a suited up Machoke swaggering forward with a joint in his mouth. "Just come with me without dancing, Dwayne. We both know who's got sicker moves of the two of us. Maybe I could cut us a deal: You can have one party and spend your full jail sentence, or you can keep dancing and get destroyed in an epic dance battle."

"How about neither," I replied, using Double Team to make it look like I stopped dancing.

"Hard way it is," the sheriff replied, pulling his pants down. "Any words before I take a crap?"

I forced my clone to sip it's beer as I had it sit there doing nothing for a little while longer to distract while I got directly in front of the sheriff. The Machoke just shrugged and pointed its rear at my clone's head. Milliseconds before he pulled took a crap, I dissipated my clone and default danced in front of the sheriff.

The sheriff stared in disbelief.

"No! That is the forbidden dance!" he said, beginning to atomic thrust at me.

We continued exchanging moves for twenty minutes in the most epic, most intense dance battle the west had seen in months. It was a stalemate, but I knew I didn't have long. While my moves were good, the sheriff's were better. As we danced, I felt myself ready to pass out from the exertion.

I once again used Double Team, cleverly fooling the sheriff into believing I was still dancing while in reality I was attempting a daring escape. When I felt I was at a good enough distance, I let the charade fail and leapt out of the train car's door. She surprised Machoke misstepped mid dance-move, causing him to fall out of the train as well.

I spread my arms, and began to soar through the air alongside the train. I gave a whistle to my getaway carriage, letting them know that I was ready to go. I took a few hardly craps in it's direction, attempting a bombing through the window.

I missed, slamming into the side of the wagon. The Rapidash I hired to go with me and get two minutes at my next party yelled "Hurry up, I see the conductor trying to get the entire Sheriff Department in our ass if we don't evacuate it now!"

"Got it, slow down a bit. I'm going to CRAP!" I shouted, taking a few craps back before taking a crap in the window. It crashed into one of the floorboards, knocking it out of place and splintering the end of it. I didn't have enough time to charge my ultimate attack, but it would do for now.

* * *

I awoke to the sound of Cheetoh saying the forbidden word.

"Grackios."

"CHEETOH! YOU HAVE SAID THE FORBIDDEN WORD!"

All I heard was a loud, ungodly noise.

When I went to stand, odd sounds echoed from my feet. "Fucking hell, they turned my right foot into a left one! How am I supposed to dance with two left feet?" I cursed as I stumbled from behind the drapes.

The Machamp who I assumed to be the Sheriff turned to face me. Cheetoh was there, shouting in agony as he was banished to the forbidden lands.

I watched unamused at the fact that my getaway runner thought he could get away with saying the forbidden word.

"Well Dwayne, there goes your partner in partying. Shame to watch, isn't it?" Cheetoh soon disappeared completely.

The walk to much of my surprise was extremely long. Whenever the sheriff wasn't looking I would crap on the sidewalks, but he'd always notice and poop in retaliation.

I was disgusted that ANYONE would poop instead of crap. I stopped and started to meat spin in an attempt to intimidate him.

"Keep walking, faggot. I'll let you know when we're there. For now, you have no rights. They illuminate the path to hell," The Machamp said, default dancing to hurry me up.

I had enough. I turned, and initiated another dance off. My first move? The dab.

Instantly, he shot me in the head. I would come back to life next chapter of course because plot armor, but for now I'm dead.


End file.
